Dishing it Out
by mat528
Summary: ALL HUMAN/ AU FIC. Buffy Summers is a soap star on a show that has steadily declining ratings; Spike is a soap star on a rival show, but he ends up working with Buffy. What happens when they meet each other, and when a murder occurs? ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: ALL HUMAN/ AU FIC. Buffy Summers is a soap star on a show that has steadily declining ratings; Spike is a soap star on a rival show, but he ends up working with Buffy. What happens when they meet each other, and when a murder occurs?**

**Disclaimer: Joss, Twentieth Century Fox, and any other studios or subsidiaries own all publicly known material and characters, including Spike (darn it!) I will return them when I'm done, and I'm making absolutely NO money from this!**

**Please read and review.**

CHAPTER ONE

"So now, I'm taking this town back, Jeff. You and I are history," Buffy Anne Summers said to a sandy brown haired man with a heart shaped face who was her co star. Riley Finn's hazel orbs glittered in the low light, his chocolate brown leather jacket and Army fatigues torn and covered with fake blood.

"Over my dead body, Kath," he said to Buffy, his Midwestern accent showing in his speech. She looked at the ground, then looked back up at the man with limpid pools of green.

"If that's the way it has to be," Buffy breathed. "But, I want to make it clear that I always loved you." "Jeff" snarled in her ear, his voice a caress.

"I will always prove my devotion to you," Riley responded, his line perfectly timed. In the studio, looking at the actors, an older man yawned.

Rupert Anthony Giles, producer, supporter of his cast, and overall surrogate father to Buffy and the man she worked with, wondered how much more of the shooting day there was. Other members of the crew bore the same, tired looks with one or two not so notable exceptions: a red headed girl, who beamed with adoration at Buffy, and a dark haired beauty with an oval face and a Blackberry in one hand and a note pad in another.

Giles went toward the woman with the pad and queried sotto vocce, "How long has this shooting day got, Anya?"

His assistant, Anya Jenkins, punched the buttons on the device, calling up the schedule for the day. "Once Riley and Buffy finish their takes, there are only two more minor scenes with the cops and then we're done for today."

When Giles nodded his thanks for her usual professionalism, Anya stole a glance at him after he turned back to Buffy and Riley. She could hardly wait for the day to be over so that they could go to dinner and engage in orgasmic time together.

Anya sighed softly, looking at the way the older man 's pinstriped, neatly pressed black suit defined a still desirable chest. His slightly graying hair which was slightly curled at its ends gave him a lilting quality in a face which might have appeared harsh on another man. The gold rimmed glasses he sported an aristocratic air; they were the finishing touch on an intelligent, scholarly looking face. The lines by the Englishman's blue eyes only added character to him and made him look approachable to members of the opposite sex. Of course, if any other woman even _looked _at the man she considered hers, Anya's vengeful stares sent women in the opposite direction. She looked at the two actors as they finished some more key lines.

The daytime dramatic score was heard just then as "Jeff" saw "Kath" walk away. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

"_Nobody _walks away from me! You'll see that soon enough!" Finn said.

Buffy said in a pleading gesture, "Okay…okay. Calm down, Jeff. No one's leaving anyone." When "Jeff" released her, "Kath" got out a knife and stabbed him in the shoulder.

"All right! Cut!" She heard a voice say. "That's a wrap and thirty minutes for lunch, people!"

Robert Woods, the show's handsome looking African American director, looked at his crew with a smile fixed in place on his expansive profile. His dark eyes however were anything but happy. Both actors caught his expression.

"Bob!" She shrieked. "What the hell was wrong with _that _take?!" Her stiletto heels thundered under her casual clothes on the wooden floor as she went toward her director.

"Buffy, hon," Robert said patiently, "you're supposed to stab him in his heart, not in the shoulder. At least, try to be dramatic! No one will buy a shoulder wound!"

"Realism, schmealism!" Buffy countered as, behind her, a red headed girl fussed with her golden hair. Another girl applied some make up to her round face.

"This show is a _soap opera, _not 60 minutes!" Buffy said, as another person, a man this time, fussed with her jacket.

"Well, if _somebody _would actually do it right, and deliver better lines with greater umph, we could actually wrap up this take before noon tomorrow!" her co star bounced back. Buffy glared at her current leading man, wondering for the umpteenth time where they dug him up. She knew that it was a mistake, putting her with him in the ratings war that "True Love" had with their number one rival show, "From Dusk Till Dawn".

Buffy looked over her shoulder at Riley but took his criticism with a grain of salt. "Are you talking about yourself, 'cause I _know _you couldn't possibly be mentioning me!" she shouted as she walked away. Riley made no move to follow but turned to the director instead.

"I wasn't bad, was I, Bob?" Riley asked. Robert just shook his head.

"It's not you, Riley…" he began saying, following the Midwesterner out toward the commissary.

"Darn straight it isn't!" Riley thundered toward the direction Buffy had taken.

"It's that Hellion from Sunnydale who's the problem! She's ruining the whole show!" he protested.

Rob just rolled his eyes. He had been through many a fight with the two temperamental actors and he thought sarcastically that if he were to abandon directing soaps and go into being a therapist, he could make a fortune.

As if on cue, Giles came toward him.

"It has more to do with the chemistry between you two, or lack thereof," the producer explained patiently to Riley. "Both of you are fine actors; however, the time has come to separate Damon from Pitheous and embrace a totally different approach. I believe your getting the new acting job in your home state of Iowa may be the blessing in disguise we first envisaged."

"Particularly since I don't have to work with—" Riley's next words were shouted—"Miss High and Mighty—" he lowered his voice again as he concluded with, "over there."

Giles cleaned his gold framed glasses, saying, "Yes, well…Faith and the other writers have come up with an idea to take the show in a new direction, and Mr. Snyder and the upper echelons are very happy with that."

Robert put a companionable hand on Riley's shoulder, saying, "Yeah, well, maybe you should cool down, have lunch, and then complete your final scenes, okay?" Riley nodded, leaving for the cafeteria. When he was gone and producer and director were alone, Bob gave Rupert a withering look.

"You _sure _this replacement is gonna work?" Bob asked. "I mean, it's my ass on the line and yours if it doesn't."

"William James comes highly recommended," Giles pointed out. "In fact that's how he earned his nickname, 'Spike'." At the director's questioning frown, the older man continued.

"He causes ratings to spike positively on any soap opera he's involved with. The press has called him the 'Saviour of Doomed Soap Operas,'" Giles explained. "Women can't get enough of Spike James, and from what I understand, he wishes to depart his current soap to do new things. The writers crafted a script that was tiller made for him, and if he is as good as the casting agents say he is, we will be looking at several Emmys next season as the number one daytime program."

Bob made a face saying, "I'd settle for number three, four or even ten." He walked off to go to lunch, leaving Rupert to his own thoughts. Giles stared back at the makeup room Buffy had gone to.

_I certainly hope it works for all of us, _he thought, _or it's back to B-movie producing. Certainly don't fancy that! _Giles went toward the cafeteria.

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Buffy flounced herself in her chair which bore her name in gold letters on it. Behind her, a red headed girl handed her a diet soda. The soap opera diva glanced appreciatively at Willow Rosenberg, her gofer and sounding board. Buffy was so happy to have Willow in her corner since it didn't look as if anyone else was.

It was quiet, mousy Willow who had brought over Buffy's favorite ice cream when the actress had sunk into a deep depression following Xander's breakup from her. When the previous show Buffy had been on was cancelled due to low ratings, Willow brought her trusty box of tissues and a few funny DVDs to watch. Within moments, Buffy had felt tremendously better. Willow had also been there when Buffy and her younger sister Dawn's mother had died during Dawn's first year in college.

It was not for nothing that Willow Marie Rosenberg was her best friend despite Buffy's father's insistence that she cultivate more "upscale relationships." Buffy drained the diet Coke as though it were a lifeline.

"Can't you retards give me some space!?" Buffy snapped to her crew.

"We've gotta get you ready for the next scene, and there won't be enough time to put all of your makeup on, Miss Summers," Bermuda Davis, the make-up woman told Buffy. Willow came over to where Buffy drummed her perfectly trimmed nails on the chair bearing her name.

"Okay ladies and guys, just give her five minutes," Willow said. "She is on her lunch break. There'll be time to fix her up later." The make-up and other people filed out until the two women were alone.

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said gratefully. "You're always looking out for me."

"It's no prob, Buffy," she said. Willow then brightened and exclaimed, "Hey! You wanna join me for lunch? We can talk about anything you want."

"No, you go ahead," Buffy said, waving Willow off. "I'm going to take advantage of the peace and quiet and just read in my trailer for a change."

"Well, you want me to grab anything from the lunch room?" Willow inquired. Buffy shook her head.

"I'm not hungry," she told her red headed friend. Willow frowned, but realized she shouldn't play Mother Hen just now. Buffy wouldn't appreciate it, and Willow could always bring her a banana or something later.

"Okay," Willow acquiesced. "See you later." She left the make-up room a second later and Buffy alone.

Lost in thought for a moment, Buffy wondered what plans the soap had for her character after Riley left. She was more than a little frightened of the unknown, and if the soap was cancelled or she was also replaced like Roy Snyder, the Head of Daytime Programming, had threatened, she didn't know what she'd do.

The once famous childhood actor and current soap opera diva told herself that she'd survive. She had gotten this far on her talent, and she would go further. Buffy wasn't a quitter, and if she couldn't stay on in her current role, by hook or by crook, she would find _something _to do with her life.

She left the studio and went out into the sun for a short walk to clear her mind of gloomy thoughts. _Maybe my next role will be with the perfect leading man, _she told herself, smiling, _and both of us will turn the show around. _Going past some trailers, she let her last thought dominate her mind, not realizing how prophetic it would be.

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Across the street, in _Archmont Studios, _Spike James was finishing up his lines for the last time on his show. His co star, Amy Madison, tried not to cry as she delivered her lines. She struggled to remember that her character, Steph Mason, was supposed to be happy since her boyfriend had decided to go with her to a new position out of Raventown, the fictitious location on the show.

Spike looked into Amy's eyes, his hand massaging her cheek as he delivered his lines. "I love you, Steph," he said, his fake American accent showing, "I always have, and I know we'll make a new life together."

"I'm so happy you're going with me, Cain," Amy told him. They kissed passionately, and Spike's hand flew to her back. They walked out of the restaurant set, his head resting on her shoulder. The stock music played a happy tune.

"Okay, people, that's a wrap!" the director shouted. Spike and Amy came back onto the set.

"Thank _God!" _Spike shouted, his Cockney accent more pronounced with his anger. "If I had to deliver that sodding line one more time, I think I would've been in the bloomin' nut house!"

The director came over to the man who had turned the soap opera genre on its ear. He wished he had Spike's luck when it came to acting. It seemed that whatever the man did, it turned to gold—ratings gold, that was. He clasped the curly brown haired man's hands and pulled him close in a manly hug. Spike returned it eagerly. He had liked working for Charles Nathaniel Gunn, and the British actor would miss the African American director very much.

"All the best, and I really mean that, man!" Gunn said.

"To you, too," Spike returned Gunn's heartfelt farewell. The prop master was directing his people, and within seconds, what had housed all four sets of "From Dusk Until Dawn" were just four blank walls.

"It's been so cool working with you," Amy told her now-former co-star. She picked up her gear and headed toward the back door of the studio.

"Yeh, it's been a blast, all told," Spike said, grabbing his items. Both stars didn't spare a backward glance as they exited together for the last time. The English actor's cell phone rang just then.

_Cell phones! _He thought. _Always such a bloody nuisance! Always ringin' when a person thinks. 'Distrub life, they do!_

Aloud, the medium brown haired man said, "Yeh?" He heard the typical greeting of the voice on the other line.

"Wes!" Spike said warmly.

"William," Wesley greeted his friend. He could imagine Spike grimacing, although he didn't hear his client and friend cursing at the use of the name the actor hated. The darker haired British man took it as a good sign: Spike only trusted his best friends with the use of his true name.

"I am in your new work place. It's quite posh in comparison to your present work environment," Wesley's voice reported.

"What about that job you've lined up for me? Is it on the QT?" Spike wanted to know.

On the other end of the cell phone, in the "True Love" studio, Wesley Windham-Price looked affronted. "_Really, Spike!" _the British man cried. "I am highly insulted! Of course the part is legitimate. It will be a whole new world for you! You would also be doing another dying soap opera a huge favor!"

Spike slung his leather jacket over his clothes and walked across the street to the other lot. "What part is it again?" he said. "An' who am I acting with?" He sidled up to the gate, which was opened for him upon arrival, the guard knowing him by the picture the studio magnates had given him.

He went into the corridor leading to Studio A and tugged on his jacket against the air conditioned meat locker he entered. The mega star put on his sunglasses from RAEborn and zipped up the black leather he favored.

Wesley's voice went on. "I'll tell you all about it when you get here," he said. "I am in Room Six." Spike hung up the cell and walked toward the rival studio and his new destiny.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

**Disclaimer: for the usual disclaimers that I OWN NOTHING, see chapter one.**

**A/N: Spike gets to play himself; a mystery guest makes an appearance. Please R & Review!**

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The stranger sealed the envelope with a loving caress of lips before dropping it through the mail slot on the Beloved's door. It was a personal letter, speaking of the devotion that She needed after the tragic circumstance that touched the Intended's young life. A check of gloved hands and everything else confirmed that there could be nothing…_would _be nothing to link these oh, so private thoughts to the mysterious messenger.

The composer of the letter thought about revealing everything, but what if S_he_ didn't reciprocate? That would shatter the stranger too much. No, it was better to court her; to pay her homage as her beauty and feistiness demanded from afar, rather than close by. The messenger knew that good things really did come to those who waited. The Love of the stranger's existence was sure to be touched at the proper moment. The devotee's eyes fell on the many pictures of the young woman who'd woven her way into the stranger's life and sighed softly. It was time: time to let the future lover know just where the being longed to be and what the being wanted to do to her.

The stranger grinned, thinking, _won't be long now. _He/she pulled his/her fingers from the door's flap and confidently walked away.

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As he neared the studio, Spike thought about the job Wesley had recommended him for. He wondered why his best friend since high school in England was being so mysterious about Spike's new acting job. Still, he knew Wesley was at the top of his game. The agent had never given Spike a job that wasn't both lucrative and career boosting, and the mega star trusted Wesley with every fiber in his being. Spike's bodyguard Clement Johnns, nicknamed "Clem", followed closely behind just like he always had. The man was the silent, Lurch-y type, but the huge soap star was glad to have a guy like Clem guarding his bum.

Of course, Spike was no slouch in the self-defense game himself. He had quick reflexes and could pick up several styles of fighting quite easily. But Clem protected him from his groupies and over amorous admirers. Yep, women were definitely Spike's Achilles heel. He thought for a brief moment about the disaster that had been Drusilla in England and sighed as he entered Studio A. Before the hit star reached his destination, Giles came up to him.

"Ah, you must be William James!" he said in a loud, totally affable voice.

"Name's jus' 'Spike'," Spike corrected. "You must be Rupert Giles. Heard all about you, mate. You're exactly the way I imagined you." Giles heard no sarcasm in that statement, so he took the comment at face value.

Giles said, "Yes, quite." The producer pumped Spike's hand, saying, "We are quite honored to have you here. All of us owe you a debt of gratitude."

"Thanks," Spike said, keeping his voice neutral. He had never liked too much gushing, but he was used to it. It seemed that, almost from birth, men admired him and women wanted to be with him. It was a cross he had to bear, but Spike did it admirably since there were worse fates; for example, being dealt a bum steer in the looks department like Clem had been.

Spike would have gladly chucked his handsomeness however for a woman who didn't value him for just his outward beauty or only his weighty purse, but for the sensitivity inside.

_Oh, well…_he thought, _no sense wishin' for wha' doesn't exist_.

It was then that both men saw Buffy Summers returning from her walk, her gold hair gleaming. Spike's eyes lit up at her woman's curves and her tiny yet supple frame. He studied her upturned nose, her plum colored lips, and her small, delicate hands. Her arms looked as though she took her workouts seriously. He wondered all of a sudden what color her eyes were, and how he'd love looking into them. The woman grabbed some papers, then returned to the makeup room.

He mentally pronounced_, she sure is shaggable! _Spike decided that he would definitely approach her later.

"Well, Rupes, I need to see my agent about a job, unless you wanna fill me in on it," Spike told Giles.

"It might be better to have your agent do it, since I have an obligation this afternoon," Giles replied. As he only partially concentrated on what the producer had said, Spike's eyes flew back to the makeup room and its gorgeous occupant. He was about to follow when he suddenly noticed some women on the other side of the studio.

While the brown haired man had been checking Buffy out, another set of eyes had been looking at Spike. Faith Lahane's black orbs studied his muscled chest, lean fresh-off-long-distance-running butt, and his sensuous lips. Already, her mind was planning delicious scenes that she could write for him. She was also picturing how he'd like his eggs (if in fact he even ate eggs), after a night of intense lovemaking in her bed.

Faith could spot an all nighter a mile wide. She knew that this one could go the distance once she'd used her animal charms on him. Faith arranged her wavy hair so that it curled seductively around her oval face. She also reapplied her blood red lipstick so that it glistened as it plumped up her lips. Pulling down her maroon colored top so that it hugged her breasts in exactly the right spot, Faith came up to Giles and tugged him away from Spike.

"Oh, Faith!" Giles exclaimed. "I didn't see you standing there!"

"Yeah, well, mousy girl…that's me," Faith said. The producer gave her a look; both knew how brazen she was.

"I can help this guy," she told Giles. He studied her for a long moment, not wanting to leave Spike in the hands of the barracuda.

"Well, I really think I should assist him in getting sorted," Giles said. Just then, Anya came up.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the meeting's in five minutes," Anya reported. The older man looked at his watch.

"Good Lord!" Giles shouted. "Where are my notes?" Anya handed them to him.

"You'll help him locate his agent and then follow straight after?" Giles asked Faith.

"Yeah, G, don't get all bummed about it," Faith said, never taking her eyes off of Spike, who still was hoping to see the golden girl again.

Thinking that Spike was a big boy and could take care of himself for a short while, Giles motioned for Anya to follow him. Both assistant and producer went to the elevator leading to the offices on the upper level.

Having missed the exchange between Giles, Faith and Anya, Spike meandered by the soundstages with the letters of the alphabet on them as he looked for Wesley's location. Before closing in on him, Faith decided to get more information about this incredibly hot guy. Spying Willow, who was going toward Buffy's location, she pulled the redhead toward her, and asked her about Spike.

"He's William James," she reported, "nickname 'Spike'. He was with the daytime soap, "From Dusk Until Dawn" before he decided to do other things."

Before Willow could relate more information, Faith heard a voice from behind her. "'Scuse me, but I was looking for Studio Six," it said. The raven haired woman turned to see Spike there.

_Even his __**voice **__is sexy! _Faith thought, a seductive smile appearing on her lips.

"Yeah?" she asked in a honeyed tone. "William 'Spike' James, right?" She caught the British actor's hand before he had a chance to tell her she was correct. Spike shook it, then when she didn't want to tug her hand away, he let go.

Faith slowly let it slip to her curvaceous side, thinking, _boy, has __**he**__ got strong hands! Gotta love those weight machines! _She looked up at his face with his oh-so-dreamy blue eyes and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood, W. J. I'm Faith Lehane."

Spike raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"I'm the head writer on this show," Faith said. "I'll be taking care of you."

"Wouldn't a secretary be doin' that, pet?" Spike asked, both out of curiosity and out of playing hard to get. He knew a come-hither voice when he heard it, but he wasn't looking for another dangerous relationship.

_Not if __**I **__have anything to say about it! _She mentally told them both. Too bad that Spike couldn't read other people's minds. Faith relaxed her predatory gleam and tried looking nonchalant.

"Normally, yeah, but I told the guys upstairs that it might be a good idea to give you the V.I.P. treatment, seein' as you're our miracle an' all," she replied.

"I'm just an actor doin' his job," Spike told her.

"You're too modest, W. J.," Faith said. She took his arm and led him toward Studio Six. After promising to "speak" to Spike later, Faith headed for her meeting.

"So, how come this soap is so much hot air instead of suds, eh?" Spike asked the red headed woman.

Willow spoke up just then, saying, "Well, i-it's not Faith, or Buffy, but there's just…no chemistry between Buffy and her co-star Riley, and it shows, so Mr. Giles and the Powers That Be at the network decided to do something different!"

Spike, who had been thinking again about the beautiful blonde girl across the way and Faith, now regarded Willow. He took her hand in his and shook it, saying, "Sorry, pet. Who are you again?"

Willow blushed under his scrutiny. "I'm no one…just Willow," she said.

"Didn't mean to ignore you," Spike apologized.

"Oh!" Willow exclaimed. "Don't worry about it. Feel free to ignore me all you want, unless of course, you want coffee or tea, o-or scones, or something. I get those things for you!"

Spike smiled. "I'll be sure to take you up on that next time I want to nosh," he said. Just then, Wesley came up to them.

"Spike!" he exclaimed as his hand found the brunette actor's back. "I see you've met some of the gang," Wesley said. "I wish to show you the studio, beginning with your trailer." Spike flashed the gofer a killer grin and walked off with Wesley.

Willow watched him walk away. She hoped Spike might prove to be a good friend in time.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Wesley walked toward the trailer Spike would have and opened it. He brandished his hand about, showing him the fully stocked refrigerator, the unbelievably soft bed, the table he could use to spread out copies of the script, and the other parts of the room.

"It'll do," Spike said, walking around. "Though I don' like the color scheme. Want something darker."

"Darker's for your flat," Wesley said. "Right now, get used to the gold scheme they've got going."

Spike said wryly, "right, 'cause soap stars can't be choosers." He got an iced tea out of the refrigerator and drank it with very little enthusiasm, wishing it was a beer.

"So…what's this role I'm playin'?" he asked his agent and friend.

"You'll be the Big Bad Vampire in the lead actress' life," Wesley told Spike.

Outside of Spike's trailer and having escaped the torturous makeup room, Buffy had been walking to the catering truck to grab a quick bite before going to her small trailer to study some lines. She found herself routed to the spot after hearing a curse word uttered by a very sexy, Cockney English voice.

"Bloody hell!" it swore. Buffy found herself going closer to the door and pressing her ear against the trailer so that she could hear more of whoever it was.

"I play serious roles on soaps and now you want me to play a reject from a Penguin Horror show?!" Spike thundered. When Wesley didn't get the reference, Spike said, "You know, like a bloomin' waiter in a tux like a penguin's get up with a Romanian accent to boot! _Lugosi,_ dipstick!"

"Vampires are _not _like that on the telly anymore!" Wesley shouted, finally having gotten Spike's reference and determined to prove his point. "They're cooler, sleeker, more modern. They are most assuredly _not_ like the Bella Lugosi head waiter stereotype, but more diversified! You've seen _Twilight, True Blood, Buffy The Vampire Slayer, _haven't you?"

"Nope, never heard o' them," Spike said. Wesley gave him a look; Spike relented a little.

"Okay, maybe I've heard o' those shows and movies, but 've never _seen _them," he told his agent. "Got better things to do than watch that rot!" Spike had a sneaking suspicion that his leading lady would also not be all he expected. Either she would have a pound of makeup on to disguise aging or she would be totally clueless and not a great actress. Either way, he decided, it would be a lose-lose situation.

"Who's playin' my love interest?" Spike wondered suspiciously.

He thought about his last leading lady. Amy had been all right, but he had to admit, he'd had to work hard to stir up the passion between them. Spike thought about that bird he'd seen earlier and imagined her as his leading lady. Now _she _stirred up passion just by looking the way she did.

"Her name is Buffy Summers..." Wesley told Spike. Spike gave his friend and assistant a look.

"'_Buffy Summers?'" _Spike repeated. "That's a _name? _Sounds like an affliction, or a name someone'd call an airhead totally off the trolley!"

Outside, Buffy felt herself fuming. How _dare _this idiot come on the set and deliver a comment like that! She wasn't sure Giles had told her what "off the trolley" meant, but the way it had been delivered, along with Mr. William A-hole James, spoke volumes to her!

"They say she's very good for one so young," Wesley protested. "At least try acting with the girl before condemning her."

"Yeh," Spike said wryly, "I c'n just see it now: I'll be carryin' her, just like I carried Amy through the lines. Bu' I'll give it a go. Who knows? I'll probably nick a few pence for savin' her arse!"

Buffy started to put her hand on the trailer door when she came up with the perfect plan. She was gonna show the high-and-mighty Mister James a few things! By the time she was finished with him, she decided, she would have him running off to England in terror!

"That's the spirit," Wesley encouraged.

_I'll show __**him**__ who's boss! _Buffy thought scathingly. She allowed herself an evil smile. The look in her green eyes as she stared at his trailer promised that tomorrow was going to be an interesting day.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: DISHING IT OUT

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**A/N: I'm really glad so many are liking this story! Please read and let me know in a review what you'd like to see in future chapters. All reviews are like manna from heaven!**

**In this chapter, Buffy and her sister discuss letters and boys. No Spike, I'm afraid, but be patient! Spuffy will come soon.**

"You're awfully quiet, Buffy," Dawn Summers, Buffy's younger sister, observed. She peered at her older sister with deep blue eyes.

"Don't you want any dinner? I cooked it myself, and it's not bad," Dawn said, helping herself to some salad. Buffy toyed with the mixed vegetables on her plate.

"Is it work?" Dawn asked. "Are you missing Riley already?" At that question, Buffy's green eyes strayed to her sister's. She ate every bit of her steak and some of the vegetables. The younger woman laughed a little at Buffy's defiance. Buffy gave her sister a look.

"What?" the youngest Summers asked, her mouth full of mashed potatoes.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, Dawnie," Buffy scolded. After swallowing her potatoes, Dawn snorted.

"Now you're sounding like Mom," she said. Buffy cast her eyes downward at her sister's comment. The older Summers wiped her mouth and her next words were soft.

"Well, someone's got to do it," Buffy whispered. Dawn looked immediately apologetic.

Her younger sister's hand reached out to touch her sister's. "I miss her, too," Dawn said.

Both sisters thought about their mother just then. Joyce Summers had been so full of life; so healthy…until breast cancer took her from her two daughters suddenly last year. Their father, Hank, had never been there even when Joyce had been alive. Her unexpected death had pushed him even further away, making Buffy the sole breadwinner, mother, and father to her 18 year old sister.

Dawn had struggled through college that year as her usual B average plunged to a D. The end result was that she had to make up her studies at the University of Southern California: the

L.A. Branch. Buffy had thrown herself into her work as a soap opera star. Her generous salary had left enough to support both herself and Dawn and pay off the house note, but her acting career was on the skids due to the tabloids splashing about the fake stories about an affair with Riley Finn, her co-star. The emotional upheaval had taken its toll on Buffy. Her once jovial attitude now bore traces of sarcasm, and she was becoming downright snappish to everyone.

Buffy had never developed very many friends in her young life. Her father's leaving her and her younger sister when Dawn was just five and she was nine had ruined any chance at the elder daughter connecting with anyone. The way Buffy saw it, people who had deep relationships with others were abandoned, and subsequently hurt. Buffy had learned that bitter lesson early, and she strove never to forget it. Acting seemed to be a way to be outgoing, yet be able to withdraw into her shell when the roles ended.

Joyce had encouraged Buffy's hobby and then career as a way to provide an outlet for her eldest daughter to somehow connect with people. Yes, Joyce had known, acting could provide some contact with people Buffy's age and older. Unfortunately, it didn't do enough to break the cocoon Buffy had woven around herself. Joyce saw her eldest daughter still holding herself off, preferring to remember lines rather than go out clubbing or with boys when she was old enough.

When Buffy had met Xander Harris, a track star in school, Joyce was overjoyed. He seemed to be the first boy her oldest daughter was interested in as a possible date rather than just an acquaintance. But the year before Joyce had complained about pains in her chest, Wilson Harris's son broke things off amicably and went to college in another state. The year during her mother's illness brought in a new inamorato: Parker Abrams.

Parker was a law student whose parents were with a very prestigious law firm: Abrams, Mercader and Shlab. The establishment handled very rich clients in famous litigation cases, and Harrison Abrams wanted his only son to manage the firm's minor cases, including a lawsuit at the studio Buffy had been working in when they'd met.

There was chemistry, to say the least, between both young people, and before long, the usually single junior Abrams' moniker became Abrams and Summers. Buffy found that she was smitten with the dashing, dark haired, dark eyed future attorney, and she expected her mother and sister to be, too.

Joyce and Dawn had been anything but.

"_He's a cold man, sweetheart," Joyce said. Behind her, Dawn nodded her agreement._

"_What do you mean, cold?" Buffy asked. "He treats me right, and he has nothing but good things to say about you both."_

"_Yeah, whenever you're in the room," Dawn muttered. When Buffy gave her a look, she loudly drained her glass of its root beer float._

"_Don't get me wrong; he seems like a nice boy," Joyce admitted, "and he has all of the right connections." She gathered the candy wrappers from the living room coffee table and tossed them into the tiny trash can by the end tables next to the rust colored couch._

"_Then what's bothering you, Mom?" Buffy asked. "Parker and I are so mix-y, it's like Fate or something!"_

_Joyce gave her daughter a searching look, as though she was reaching into Buffy's soul to find the right way to respond. She lifted the plastic bag out of the trash can and sighed._

"_It's just that he seems too good to be true," Joyce said, "as though he has a hidden agenda. And, tell me this, why does he always have a client or a meeting whenever he's in town? It seems to me that if a man loves a woman as much as Parker claims, he should be attentive to her needs and put her even before his career."_

"_Like the way Dad has been with his secretary Cassandra?" Buffy asked bitterly._

_At her mother's stricken look, Buffy immediately apologized._

"_It's just that he keeps himself hidden from you, and he hasn't given you his heart," Joyce told Buffy. "Any man who does that is not the type of man a young woman should fall in love with. Mark my words, sweetie, he'll take what's left of your love and leave you empty before he ever gives you his."_

_Buffy just shrugged her mother off and left the room. Dawn shook her head back and forth and went upstairs._

As if on cue, the sound of a key inside a lock was heard, and Parker strode into the house. Buffy finished remembering the past and her eyes welcomed him. His dark eyes scanned the living room for her. He finally saw her at the dining room table and without being asked, Parker took his seat at the head of it.

"Hey, Buffy," he greeted as Dawn glared at him. Parker totally paid the youngest in the Summers clan no mind. He knew Buffy's sister didn't like him, but he really didn't care.

"Parker!" Buffy said, getting up from her seat and going over to hug him. Parker hugged her back from his seat, but he didn't make any other overtures to greet his girlfriend.

"What a surprise!" Buffy squealed. "I thought you said you'd be out of town with your family this week!" They broke apart, and she resumed sitting in her seat.

"Well, I finished my business early, and I thought to myself, 'self, where's the one place I wanna be right now'?" he responded. "And I realized I wanted to be here."

Dawn rolled her eyes, then cleared her throat. "I think I'll just go upstairs and study," she said. She deposited her plate in the sink and went upstairs.

Buffy was apologetic as she said to Parker, "I'm sorry. I don't know why she acts that way in front of you."

Parker waved her off, saying, "Buffy, it's okay. She's just a kid." He crossed over to her chair and, taking both her hands, pulled her out of it.

"You, on the other hand, are a _wo-__**man,**_" he emphasized, kissing her. Buffy's arms snaked around his neck. She tugged at his shirt as they spun each other until they reached the living room couch.

Parker broke apart from her as he lowered her to the sofa. "The kind of woman with just the loving I need," he breathed, making Buffy feel as though she was the only woman on Earth. He tugged at her top and she unzipped his pants. They kissed and made love without preamble on the couch.

_Here's to you, Mom, _Buffy thought, projecting how happy Joyce Summers would be to see her daughter with the man she knew was The One. Both Parker and her eldest daughter failed to see the ghostly figure of Buffy's mother, looking on at Parker with censure and disappointment in her glowing eyes.

_Oh, Buffy, how wrong can you be? _The Spirit of Joyce thought.

She wished that Buffy could hear her; if the young woman could, she would have rethought her current relationship. But of course, Buffy had no idea of the future that was looming, or the part Parker would play in it or of the man who was meant for her waiting in the wings.

After they finished making love, Parker slowly rose from the couch. "Oh, shoot…" he said. "Buffy, honey, I just remembered! I hate to do this to you, but I have to go."

Buffy looked disappointed, and incredulous. "But why?" she asked. "You just got here! I was gonna feed you and tell you my exciting news."

Parker tugged on his shirt, telling her, "I'm sorry, babe, but I really can't skip this appointment. I promise I'll make it up to you. We'll do some fun things this week, 'kay?"

Buffy ignored the suspicion gathering in her mind that said that her current inamorato was hiding something and said, depressed, "Okay. I know the business is very important to you."

Her boyfriend's dark orbs roamed over her once. "Hey, don't be like that!" he chided. "I don't like it any more than you do, but if I don't return to work tonight, I'll be out of a job."

"Your own dad would fire you?" Buffy asked, surprised. She had only met Parker's parents the one time during their dating stint, but Harrison Abrams didn't seem to be that unforgiving.

"He's treating this like any professional job," Parker responded. "Says it's for my overall growth. So, let me go, or get used to Parker, the Pizza Delivery boy."

It was on the tip of Buffy's tongue to say that she didn't care what her boyfriend did for a living, but she held her mouth. She desperately wanted things to work out between them, and if her trouble-causing tongue got herself into trouble like it had in the past, she would bite it back with a vengeance.

Buffy hugged him, saying softly, "I wouldn't want him to fire you." Parker smiled and kissed her warmly.

"Thanks, babe," he said, kissing her.

"I love you," Buffy said, returning his kiss.

"Likewise," Parker told her. He strode to the door and slammed it.

Dawn came back downstairs after the door had shut. "Is Hurricane Parker gone?" she asked.

Buffy glared at her. "Parker is _not _a hurricane," Dawn's sister ground out.

"Well, let's see: he blows into town, then blows out, leaving devastation in his path," the younger Summers said. "Sounds like a hurricane to me. Oh! And the best part, he takes all of your emotional stuff with him, just like a storm does when it tears your life apart."

"That's _enough!" _Buffy retorted. "You're just jealous." Dawn gave her a look that reminded Buffy of Joyce just then. It was a scrutinizing look that saw right through Buffy's masks and shields to the inner woman.

"No, I'm not," Dawn said, "but I'm not gonna beat a dead horse." She got the mail and sifted through it.

Dawn's hand stopped when she saw the neatly typed envelope without a return address. It was similar to the few that had been found in their mailbox recently, though the dark haired Summers realized that the number of letters resembling the one she held in her hand had increased somewhat in the past few weeks.

Buffy looked over at the small amount of letters. She held out her hand expectantly, and waited for Dawn to give her the correspondence. Her sister didn't take the hint as she opened the envelope.

"Nice," she breathed as she caught a whiff of the herbal fragrance. Her eyes grew wide as she began to read.

"'Dearest Muse,'" Dawn read, "'you are the flame that keeps my heart burning for you. I start each day anew longing for the peace that only thoughts of you give me. I cannot wait to spend eternity each night lying in your arms. Ever yours, Your Secret Admirer.'"

"You see?" Buffy said, touched by the letter. "And you thought Parker didn't love me."

"Uh, Buffy," Dawn said thoughtfully, "if Parker sent this and the other ones you've gotten, why doesn't he sign them?"

Buffy sniffed the fragrance before saying, "You don't know anything about romance! He wants to be all mysterious 'cause he knows I like that and not tell me who he is."

"If you say so," her sister responded. "I just think it's...I dunno...not like him. He seems to be the type that would sky write his feelings, or put them on the Internet or something."

_If he __**has**__ any feelings, that is,_ Dawn's mind supplied.

Buffy dropped the letters on the table with a decided plop. Dawn's next words had Buffy wondering that night as she went to bed about solving said mystery.

"You don't think these letters are something to worry about, do you?" she asked with trepidation.

"No, why should we be afraid of Parker?" Buffy asked incredulously. "I think these are very sweet." She placed the romantic letter to the side and began to open the bills. After going through them, Buffy regarded her sister.

"How good are you with finding out about people's vital statistics on the Internet?" she queried suddenly, turning her thoughts to the offensive Mr. James.

"Killer," Dawn said. Her eyes lit up at the thought of a little mischief. Buffy smiled.

"Just what I wanted to hear," she said conspiratorially, outlining her plan for tomorrow's shenanigans. Her sister booted up the computer, and together, they searched the 'net for everything they could about William James.


	4. Chapter 4

DISHING IT OUT, CHAPTER FOUR

**Disclaimer: there is a minor piece of dialogue from a Buffy episode. Just a disclaimer for safety that I don't own any part of Buffy TVS. **

**A/N: I will try to update this piece as much as I can; however, there are several WIP's which are commanding my attention, so I beg you to be patient. This chapter is slightly longer than some other ones. I wanted to give my readers something longer, though I have to say...this was a litle hard to write, since it sets things up and introduces some more characters.**

**Feel free to drop a kind word about this story, thanks. For the record, the words "pissed" and "plastered" (in Brit speak) mean drunk.**

XXXXXXXXXX

Before going to the studio the next morning, Buffy put her hair in a ponytail even though she knew Bermuda's team would probably redo her simple style anyway. That, however, was the least of her problems. The biggest one was that she'd stayed up late with her younger sister trying to search for any dirt on Mr. William James only to come up empty.

Apparently, he had never even had so much as a parking ticket issued against him; in fact, it seemed as though there was very little information on the actor. Dawn had promised she'd continue to look into his background when she could, but she had her homework from several professors to do. Buffy had wanted ammunition she could use the next morning. She had always considered herself a great judge of character, and she just _knew _William James had to be hiding something.

When the ill fated next day rolled around, the soap opera diva sighed as she prepared to get into her car. Before she could start her motor, Buffy's cell phone rang. Arranging her Bluetooth in her ear, she said, "Yeah?"

"Buffy, it's Giles," her producer said. "May I have a word before you come in?"

"You can have a sentence, even," she said, her tone teasing.

"We have to shoot some scenes with Mr. James, so could you come in after lunch, perhaps at 1?" Giles wanted to know.

Buffy couldn't believe that! She had studied her lines practically all night! After talking with Dawn that morning, when she was ready to go through the day's reading _his _lines took center stage! Now, Buffy was more determined than ever to see to it that Spike James got his just desserts!

_C,mon, you know it's just because it's __**him**__, not because of the lines! _Her mind supplied.

Deep down, Buffy knew it was right; actors sometimes waited hours to read their lines during the day depending on the production schedule, but she was determined to put the blame on him.

Buffy ignored the small tremor of excitement that he had stirred inside her the day before. He was attractive, and despite his arrogance, she admired his passion greatly; but she didn't want to enter into a relationship with a guy like Spike. He probably had a woman in every port. That was so not of the good.

Her burgeoning attraction was something that she _definitely _did not welcome. What, she asked herself, was wrong with her? She had Parker! But it seemed that her thoughts, both good and bad, were consumed with William James! When she thought about him, even for a moment, she forgot her boyfriend and every other man!

Remembering that Giles was on her phone, Buffy hoped she sounded normal as she told him, "Sure, no prob. Just one thing, though...why didn't you want us both there? I mean, my character is supposed to be dating him, right?"

"Yes," the producer responded, "but the cameraman and director want to test the lighting on Mr. James' make up and other inconsequential things. We thought it would be easier if he read some of his lines from some scenes where he is by himself first. You understand. Besides, now you can sleep in, maybe grab some tea and scones or something."

Buffy didn't respond with her usual exuberance. Giles took that as a bad sign. He could feel the coldness leaking out from the other end of the line.

"Buffy...?" Giles asked when he didn't hear her reply immediately.

"OK," she said. "You're right. There's no reason I need to be there first thing. I have something I have to do anyway."

XXXXXXXXXX

Retrieving the script that William and the other actors had to rehearse that morning, Giles crossed out several lines. "Fine, fine!" He told her. "I will see you later on today." He hung up the cell.

_I sure hope that she isn't taking this wrongfully, _Giles thought. A word from Anya cut off his musings. The producer went to see what his assistant wanted and then went to work viewing the staff while they attended to various duties.

XXXXXXXXXX

As soon as she hung up the phone, Buffy paced back and forth on the pink rug in her bedroom. Her eyes fell on her stuffed pig, Mr. Gordo, who rested innocently on her bed.

"One word of advice, Mr. Gordo," she told her toy, "if you ever come alive _don't _go into show business!"

She placed a call to her sister, who she guessed would be at the university by now, but she got Dawn's messaging center. Texting her to "Call me! URGENT!" into the mobile phone, Buffy hung up, dejected.

She figured she might as well do some domestic things before she headed out for the day. She grabbed her kitchen garbage and, sealing the trash bag, went to the chute. When she got there, Buffy saw her neighbor, Harmony Kendall, emptying hers, her newly washed hair down around her waist, her mud mask in place.

"Oh! Buffy, I didn't see you!" Harmony told her neighbor.

"Hi, Harm," Buffy greeted, saying her nickname, "how're things?"

Harmony frowned, her attractive, round face animated as she regarded her neighbor. She threw her long, lighter blonde tresses over her shoulder.

"Terrible!" Harmony wailed with her higher voice. "See, my boyfriend Stefan promised me he'd take me on a whirlwind trip to Vegas, but then he chickened out at the last minute! I'll bet he's going there with his assistant, Melody!"

"What makes you say that?" Buffy asked, feeling a little sorry for Harmony.

Harm gave Buffy a "duh" look as she said, "Because he told me! He wants a _brainy _girl, one who knows how to gamble and stuff!"

It was all Buffy could do not to roll her eyes as Harmony went on to describe her love life in great detail. The actress could be sympathetic, but Buffy had her own problem to worry about that morning. Plus, Harmony was unfortunately a very vacuous, dim witted person. Many things she said didn't make sense to most people in the outside world. The lighter blonde lived inside her own zone and she followed her own code, which dictated that she be well meaning, but entirely clueless about everything.

_Clueless…_Buffy thought. An evil grin crossed her lips as she formulated a plan for getting even with William. Maybe she didn't need her sister, after all. If he expected an airhead, well, then, she would give him one!

Putting her hand around her neighbor's shoulder, the soap opera star said, "Harmony, I want to help you."

Harmony looked perplexed. Buffy seemed nice enough, but she had never helped Harmony in the past. "Huh?" She said.

When Buffy repeated herself, Harmony squealed. "Oohhh!" Harm shouted. "You'd do that for me?"

"Of course," Buffy told her. "But I'll need something from you, too."

"But…I don't make lots of money, and the hair styling business doesn't pay much," Harmony protested. Buffy shook her head.

"I don't need money. Call this a mutual exchange of information," she said. "I just need you to teach me something!"

"What?" Harmony asked. They started walking toward the lighter blonde's apartment. Buffy's last words sounded in Harm's ear.

"Teach me to be you," Buffy said.

They disappeared behind Harm's front door.

XXXXXXXXXX

At the studio excitement was in the air. Giles was ecstatic over the latest production schedule since it assured that Spike would be in every scene that day, with or without Buffy.

He had met with the top brass upstairs and, for once, he'd walked out of Roy Snyder's office without any battle scars from the Head of Daytime Programming's sometimes despicable comments. Giles had also promptly shut the door to his office and, after inviting Anya Jenkins inside, had proceeded to teach her about the only equipment in his office that was not provided by the studio.

In her cubby hole of an office, Faith was in her element. She had not only written some great scenes for the hot actor she called "W. J.", she had also scored with a new man she'd met in a bar the night before. He'd given her some of the greatest loving she'd ever had without emotional strings. That alone was worth the price of admission, in her book. She could hardly wait to view the day's footage and run over scenes with Giles and the other writers who worked for her.

Willow hummed as she went about fetching coffee, donuts and fruit from the commissary for all of her coworkers. After handing out the food and drinks to everyone, the gofer knocked on William James's trailer door.

"Mmmm..." William mumbled.

Everyone else had seemed as cheerful as larks when he'd pulled up to the television studio that morning. But the brown haired newcomer wasn't a morning person, not by any means. To add insult to injury, he'd gotten plastered at a bar the night before and was greeting the mother of all hangovers. It seemed that his dozing off, even for a moment, had not helped William "Spike" James's head.

Outside of his trailer, Willow Rosenberg paid him no mind. "Mr. James?" Willow asked timidly. A second later, after some British swearing, William opened the door. His sable curls were tussled; his eyes were tired.

Yawning, he said, "Oh, it's you, Red. Sorry 'bout the 'sod off' reference. 'M not a morning person. Tend to read my lines in the afternoon. Come in."

Willow smiled, saying, "No, that's okay." She held up a tray of food, inviting, "I brought goodies, including scones!" Spike looked at the tray and nodded his approval.

"Jus' give me a moment, pet," he told the titian haired young woman as he helped himself to strong coffee and a blueberry scone. He closed the door and Willow heard sounds of him grunting.

"You okay in there?" He heard her ask. She knocked on the door loudly.

"Sure," his voice assured her. "Just getting ready, is all."

"You have to go to wardrobe soon," Willow cried. "It's near Studio B!"

"Got it," Spike's muffled reply came.

Having smelled the kind of night the actor had earlier, the titian haired helper also said with amusement, "You might also want to hose yourself down. Washroom's near the studio you're due in. But you'll have to hurry; you've only got 20 minutes!"

She heard him murmur, "Thanks, Red. See you later."

While Spike got ready, Wesley came in search of him. When he saw Willow, he waved to her.

"Making himself presentable, is he?" Wesley asked Willow.

"Yes," Willow joked, "though for the role he's playing he _should _look and smell like Night of the Living Dead."

Wesley groaned. William always had pissed himself the night before he read for a new role. As usual, he didn't listen to his agent and best friend. Used to this, Wesley knocked on the door.

"Do you require my assistance?" his voice asked.

Moments later, Spike emerged from his trailer with his blue denims, a white undershirt pulled out from them and his trademark sunglasses. He wore a fashionable brown leather jacket over the whole ensemble. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

"Jus' point me toward the shower," he said, his voice curt as usual. Wesley extended his long arm.

"Over there, but it is getting late," the agent told Spike.

"Yeh, I know, they always want to start yesterday," the actor said. He went toward the shower as Wesley grabbed a t shirt that matched William's hair color from the trailer and hurried to follow him.

While William showered, Rupert Giles checked the list of cast members in his hand as he peered at the dark haired man with the intense eyes standing before him. The man studied the studio crew. Coming up beside the man, Giles asked him, "Have we met?"

"No, actually," the younger man told the producer. "I'm your new cameraman, Thomas Davis. People call me 'Angel'. Mr. Barrows took in sick this morning, and he appointed me to fill in."

Giles raised his brow and said, "Strange that he didn't clear it with me. The workers usually do."

"Perhaps there was a mix up," Angel told him. "If you check your list, you'll find that I'm scheduled for today."

Giles looked up his name; then, satisfied, he said, "A pleasure to meet you." Without speaking another word, the producer turned away abruptly.

Angel looked at his retreat with broody eyes. To anyone looking at him, it was as though he was trying to divine all of Giles's secrets. But Giles gave nothing away as he talked with an African American man. Angel looked at them talking with the lens of his camera. Before he could zoom in on their lips moving, he heard his cell phone. Angel groaned. He recognized Cordelia's ring. It had a shrillness to it that other rings didn't.

_Cordy, _he thought, _we need to work on your timing!_

Angel picked up on the third chord of the cell. "'lo?" he asked, his baritone coming through.

"Angel?" a feminine voice asked over the line. "What's going on? Have you found out anything?"

"Gee, Cordy," he said, using her nickname with a mocking tone, "it's kind of hard to spot anything when I've only been here for five minutes."

"Screw you," Cordy's voice said teasingly.

"Wish I had time," Angel responded, not missing a beat. His voice becoming a purr, he teased, "If you want me to come back and not work this case but work on you instead, I have no objections."

At the office, Cordelia Chase rolled her chair up to the massive, light brown, oak desk set that Angel and she shared. The dark haired beauty with the heart shaped face loved baiting her friend; playing hard to get. She wanted to play with his very short hair and whisper into his ear; then, as always, she would say something snooty that would rile him.

"That's a very sweet offer," she said in a soft, lilting voice. "Unfortunately, I'm on a diet. I gave up on snacking on sugar daddies last month."

"I'm not surprised," Angel murmured. After a moment, he reported in a business like tone, "I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary yet. There seems to be a lot of activity though." As if on cue, cameramen and other personnel rapidly set up the equipment for the day's shooting.

"I didn't get a handle on a conversation between Rupert Giles and another guy, but put them on the suspects' list for now. They might be hiding something. Find out anything you can on Rupert Giles and the man he is talking to in the pic I'm transmitting," he instructed.

"Got it," Cordelia said. She downloaded the image Angel sent and entered it into the electronic file they had on the people at the studio.

"His name's Robert Woods, nickname 'Robin'. He's a famous director: only twenty seven years of age, yet he's done several TV shows and movies, including _Leave 'Em and Love Em _and _The House that God Built, _among other things," Cordy reported.

"I saw the second movie," Angel said, his voice thoughtful. "Woods won an Emmy for that one."

"And…?" She prompted.

"And nothing," Angel said into the phone. His brooding voice came over the speaker as he queried, "Except…why would someone move from TV movies into soap operas? Isn't that kind of taking a step backwards?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Cordelia's voice responded. "Oh, before I forget, Fred said she didn't find anything else on the victim."

"Hence the reason for my being here…" Angel reminded his partner. "My intuition says that these people know more about the MacCalay girl than they're letting on."

"And maybe you're wrong this time," Cordy said. "Remember the Thompkins case?"

Angel inwardly winced at the reminder of the disaster that had been the George Thompkins case. He'd wrongfully concluded after a nine month investigation that Thompkins' brother had murdered the fabulously wealthy former B movie actor. After discovering that it had, in fact, been the twin sister who had been his killer, the detective formerly dubbed "the Golden Smog", "the Scourge of Celebrity Crooks" and Angel's personal favorite, "the Sleuth to the Stars" had been diced and dissected in the papers.

He could still see the scathing headlines, pronouncing, "Golden Smog Hits Fog in Thompkins Fiasco", and "Gelled Hair Detective Today, Gone Today". He had scrimped and saved the bulk of his family's estate to put it into his detective business, and he had determined he only needed to solve one big case correctly to put himself back on top again.

"Anyone can make a mistake, Cordy," his voice came softly over Cordelia's loud speaker.

Cordelia hated reminding the man she secretly loved about the one thorn in his side, but she didn't want him chasing shadows that weren't there. To add to that, if memory served, the victim hadn't even been working at the studio for a year when she'd bought it. She felt the sting of guilt by bringing up what was a sore subject for them both.

"I'm sorry I mentioned it," she said.

"It's okay," he responded. After a beat, Angel looked around and saw Bob Woods coming toward him. His expression was not a happy one.

"I gotta get to work. Can't risk blowing my cover on the first day," the detective told Cordy. "I'll let you know something soon."

"Hey, Mr. Hair Gel!" Bob called. "You wanna stop talking to your girl and let's get these shots in the can?"

Angel quickly hung up and took his position behind his SONI camera, saying, "Sure, Mr. Woods."

Woods barked out orders to the crew, finishing with Angel.

William came over to stand on his mark, his pale vampire makeup in place. He posed the way the director wanted for the camera. As Angel zoomed in on him and set up the shot, William's eyes briefly met his. Both thought the same thing when the actor turned slightly to the left.

_He looks like trouble! _Both mentally commented.

Willow stood behind the camera crew, sound technicians, and all of the make up people fussing with his hair and face. She hovered behind them just in case she was needed.

_Thank God I took several hours of film school! _Angel thought, following Bob's orders without a hitch.

After two shots, the makeup people came over and brushed William's hair. For the past hour, everyone tested William's sound level, appearance on video, and the lines he was reading from the teleprompter. Bob was about to put the shots in for post production to tighten up when he spotted the last person he wanted to see.

"Mr. Snyder!" Woods exclaimed.

The Head of Daytime Programming came in with the rest of the network executives. At age 50, Roy Eastwood Snyder had designed the small studio with one thing in mind: being in total charge of everyone and everything. If he wanted you, you would shoot all the way to the top, but if he hated you, you'd be cleaning garbage on Hollywood Boulevard for a good portion of your miserable life.

His small, brown eyes looked at everyone in the studio and rested on Bob Woods. He walked over to the director and his staff. Angel observed the man—who bore a striking resemblance to the Ferengi on _Star Trek _with his troll like features—who looked as though he wanted to dissect the director on sight. Giles went over to meet Snyder and his party.

"Mr. Snyder, what a...pleasant surprise," the British producer said dubiously. Snyder sneered.

"Don't lie to me, Giles," he said. "Tell me how you really feel about our little visit."

"It's always a pleasure to see you, sir," he said, knowing how the game of "Kiss the Bum" was played.

Snyder looked next at Bob and William. "I see you're making due with the help," he said.

"Uh, sir," Giles reminded him, "this is Mr. William James. He is to be our vampire for the new shows."

Snyder raised a brow, but didn't otherwise comment. He stood back, waving off the crew dismissively. Before Bob Woods could issue another camera angle, however, Snyder walked up to William James.

"I don't like the way he looks," he said in a cold voice. "No one will buy a vampire looking like that. Sex sells. Let's see some sleeze."

Giles said, "Sir, we are a _daytime _show." Snyder rounded on the producer.

He fixed him with a glare that could melt even the toughest metal, then turned to the other board members, emphasizing, _"Tasteful _sleeze. Fix the hair."

When Giles looked confused, Snyder explained, "Platinum vampires are ratings winners. Blond will be much better on him."

"I agree," a lady wearing three inch high heels agreed. She walked up to William and, taking a few of his locks in her hands, commanded, "The 80's punk style should be good."

The members filed out, not wanting to hear any arguments. William gave Giles a look that said, "Those blokes are arseholes." He didn't make any comments as the hairstylist held up swatches of blond shades to see which would suit him.

"Come on," she said. William followed.

"All right, people, let's get two more shots of the others for this morning, then lunch," Bob said. Everyone set up for the next wave of camera angles, glad that the big bosses were gone.

XXXXXXXXXXX

That afternoon, Buffy thanked Harmony before getting behind the wheel again.

"No problem," the lighter blonde told the soap star. "What's this role again that you're cramming for?"

The lie Buffy had concocted immediately sprang to mind. "It's called, 'William's Downfall," she said. Harmony turned over the name in her head.

"Oh, I _like _that!" She shouted. Leaning over Buffy's car window, she looked longingly at the cream colored leather seats in the red sports car and asked, "Is there a role for me?"

When her neighbor looked as though she might protest, Harmony defended herself, saying, "I was an actress for awhile; well, actually a model in a big commercial...Well, it was a commercial, anyway."

When Buffy looked at Harmony curiously, she told her, "It was a shampoo commercial! They said I was a natural! I just had to fondle the car!"

"They have everyone they need," Buffy said lamely. Harmony shrugged.

"Oh, well..." she tossed her blonde mane over her right shoulder and said, "that's OK. Good luck with it!"

Buffy drove off, feeling terrible at deceiving Harmony like she had. She had never really thought about heavenly punishment for fibbing, but if the headache she was starting to get was any indication, the actress silently promised anyone who might be listening that she would _never _lie to Harm again.

She battled the hour long traffic and after parking at the studio, checked the makeup Harmony had loaned her. She applied the hot pink lipstick to her mouth, making her lips fuller. When Buffy exited the car, several men turned to stare. Remembering how to act, she smiled dumbly at them and sidled up to the guard.

"Miss Summers," the older man said, "love the look."

"Thanks," Buffy said, smiling. She pulled down her very short fuchsia skirt and swung her hips provocatively as she walked onto the soundstage.

The first sight that greeted her was the attractive man with the pronounced forehead, who had bumped into her.

"Oops!" he said. "Sorry."

"That's okay," she said in a silly sounding voice. When Buffy walked away, Angel stared after her, half attracted, half nervous that Cordelia might have spies lurking inside. He knew that if she found out the direction his thoughts currently took, his partner would have the skin off of his back. He forced his eyes forward, then walked out to grab a coffee before going back to work.

Buffy walked past Giles. Not recognizing her at first, he was about to tell her she was in the wrong studio when he finally saw who she was.

_What is she up to? _He wondered. When he saw where she gazed next, Giles guessed what game Buffy was playing.

_I was right, _he guessed about the young woman he thought of as his daughter. _She's jealous of Spike. _The Ripper part of Giles knew that sparks would fly between William and his younger co star, and that could be very good for their prospective roles.

William saw the blonde vixen in the mini skirt walking toward him and felt the blood in his veins pumping furiously. If this was Buffy Summers, he decided, he could give acting alongside Miss Airhead a definite go. Looking into her warm, green eyes, he knew he wanted her. He thought about how he would approach her later so they could get plastered together...drinking more than just liquor.

Buffy's lips curved into a superior grin when she realized William was hooked. The fish had responded to the bait. Soon, she would have him fighting to get away from her. This afternoon was going to be full of surprises for Mr. James...very profound surprises.

What she didn't know, or what she tried to ignore, was the small voice telling her how hot he looked with his totally black vampire's wardrobe, complete with duster, t shirt, Dockers, and jeans covering an oh-so-delectable butt and, as he turned, a large bulge. But the most enticing thing was the platinum blond hair which was now straight with only the slightest curling on his neck. It gave him a feral look, something she _definitely _wanted to see more of.

"Wow..." she whispered appreciatively as she prepared to read her lines with him. Buffy repeated to herself over and over that, like his character, he was the enemy and she would do well to remember that!

_Let the games begin, _they both promised each other as they stared into each other's eyes.


End file.
